


Hunger

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic, Feeding, Food Kink, Hand Feeding, M/M, Stuffing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have different sorts of hunger.





	Hunger

Aziraphale sighed, his eyes closing for a minute, his hand touching against his belly, which was feeling increasingly full with the passing moments. It was a good belly, he felt, round and warm and _curved_ , and it was thick with a cushioning that only ever served as a beacon for Crowley, encouraging him to wriggle forward and plaster himself to Aziraphale’s body. It was _nice_. He liked to settle his hands, fingers interlinked, just on top of it and rest them there; sometimes, leaning back with his book, he’d rest his mug there. And it was most _pleasurable_ to work up to having it.

Crowley’s ankles, right now, were pressed against his belly on either side, squeezing just slightly, and Crowley was sitting on the edge of the table, looking down at Aziraphale with a delightful hunger in his eyes, the sort of expression that made Aziraphale rather want to squirm.

“You do spoil me, dear boy,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, and Crowley took up another forkful of the lemon drizzle, bringing it to Aziraphale’s mouth. When Aziraphale parted his lips to let it through, he closed them around the tines of the fork as Crowley pulled it back, letting the mouthful of cake linger on his tongue… Fluffy, _sweet_ , and with just the acidic tang of the lemon syrup, melting in his mouth as he just held it there before he chewed—

“Why shouldn’t I spoil you?” Crowley asked, pressing the fork through the cake and cutting away another piece of it, so light and spongey, so mouth-wateringly good. “I live to spoil you, angel.”

“Do you indeed?” Aziraphale asked, and opened his mouth again. He hummed his pleasure, a soft little moan that made Crowley wriggle, and the next mouthful was of a strawberry meringue, crumbling and chewy in his mouth, with such a delightful _crunch_ when he drew his teeth through the hard outer part—

“ _Bless_ , angel,” Crowley hissed, and the next piece he laid on Aziraphale’s tongue, a rich chocolate cake made moist with sticky syrup, he set it there with his finger and thumb. Aziraphale caught his wrist, keeping him in place as he sucked the chocolate away from the demon’s fingers, and Crowley _moaned_. “Gonna need to go upstairs, angel—”

“Oh, Crowley, _no_ ,” Aziraphale said plaintively, looking up at him with his eyes full of silent plea. “We _must_ finish the plate first.”

“I’ll _die_ ,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale looked between his spread thighs, at the tempting target underneath the denim of his tight jeans.

“You won’t,” Aziraphale said, tone coaxing even as he licked his lips, and laid his hands on Crowley’s calves, gently stroking them. “Won’t you feed me the rest of the plate, Crowley? Please?”

Crowley shivered, but he took up the last of the lemon drizzle, and brought it to Aziraphale’s mouth.


End file.
